


We must hang together

by didsomeonesaybioshock



Series: Various One-Shots from Multiple Fandoms [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, History, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:34:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsomeonesaybioshock/pseuds/didsomeonesaybioshock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabelle, one of two survivors from Vault 111, shares a bit of Old State House history with the mayor of Goodneighbour himself, resulting with a confession that has been a long time coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We must hang together

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of background information about my OC: Annabelle worked as a lead historian for the Old State House Museum in Boston before the war. She was one of two sole survivors from Vault 111, the other being the lawyer from next door in Sanctuary Hills named Aaliyah Hale, who was married and had a son named Shaun. Annabelle is basically a precious and fragile brainiac that struggles with survival because of her lack of initiative on the battlefield. Also she can hardly hold a gun correctly.

After scrounging through every corner of Goodneighbour he finally found her leaning over the worn wood railing of the Old State House balcony, the city’s fluorescent lights casting a glow over her milk white skin. She stood clad in a pair of faded blue jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places, matched with a dingy white t-shirt and her bare feet. Her shoulder length blonde locks blew loosely in the slight breeze as she gazed over the small town, her left finger tips tracing the weathered cracks in the post idly. Hancock watched her for a moment with a smirk tugging at his thin lips before he made his way to her side, hunching forward over the railing on his elbows and adjusting his tricorn hat slightly.  


“There you are,” he peered at her from the corner of his dark eyes. “Thought you’d skipped out on me.”  


She glanced at him and smiled softly. That soft, innocent smile that reduced him to a gooey puddle of radiation and adoration each and every time. “You know I could never leave you.”  


He chuckled cooly and shook his head, ignoring the tremble in his limbs. “Don’t get an old ghoul’s hopes up, now.”  


Their bodies were close, their shoulders hardly a breath away from the other and when she moved slightly to adjust herself they were suddenly touching, the small contact making Hancock’s heart leap within his chest. Oh, boy, did he have it bad. He could deny Fahrenheit’s constant teasing of his crush all he wanted but there was no way to ignore the deep affection he had for this woman. They settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before she spoke again.  


“There’s a reason I fell in love with this building before the war,” she began with her voice pitched lower, only meant for his ears. He watched her carefully, studied her sea spray eyes and the curve of her jaw, the way her forehead crinkled slightly when she was deep in thought or recalling a memory. He drank her up like a tall glass of purified water. “This building has so much history behind it. So much power has been housed within it’s walls. The greatest historical figures of all time have walked these floors and admired this same view from the second floor. We are almost literally following in their footsteps.” She grasped his scarred hand without so much as a flinch and pointed with her other hand at the decomposing building in front of them. “Behind this building and probably another 200 yards away is where the Boston Massacre occurred. March 5, 1770. Five men were killed and six wounded, all of them average citizens. Absolute chaos in the streets long after the British soldiers lowered their muskets.”  


“Why the hell’d they fire on civilians?” He wondered out loud. Annabelle’s hand still laid within his weathered digits, her smooth skin caressing his own cracked flesh and sending a bolt of electricity through his core. He didn’t dare move a single inch.   


“They were provoked. They didn’t want to fire. In fact, the order to fire into the crowd was never formally given.” Her fingers twitched and pressed further into his grasp, almost begging entrance between his own. “Tensions were high at the time because of the recent Townshend Acts and the arrival of the HMS _Romney_ in Boston. And once John Hancock’s ship the _Liberty_ was confiscated based on smuggling allegations the citizens got _really_ pissed off. The soldiers from the _Romney_ began to patrol the streets and post in neighborhoods, attempting to take control of Boston from the inside out.” She sighed and shook her head as if she were reliving a memory. “And then, to make matters worse, a group of anonymous writers banned together and created _The Journal of Occurrences:_ an olden-time gossip magazine based on actual attacks by British soldiers against citizens and were overly exaggerated to sound worse than they actually were.”  


“Which only fueled their fire.” John added.  


“Exactly. It was a nightmare after that.” Annabelle glanced down at their hands and the smile that tugged at her lips gave John a small surge of confidence. “People began taunting soldiers, throwing whatever insults and objects they could find in their direction. Which is exactly how the Boston Massacre began.”  


Before he could muster any seconds thoughts he entwined their fingers, his other hand coming to toy with her digits slowly and idly. He could feel the shiver that ran through her body as they locked eyes. “Sounds like Boston was on the brink of a civil war.”  


The blush that blossomed across her cheeks was unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. She looked away and cast her attention towards the city below them, watching a drifter as they staggered heavily towards the Third Rail. “Y-yeah, pretty damn close.” John continued to watch her even after she had broken their gaze, his ruined fingertips tracing the creases of her digits slowly and softly. “When the blood had been shed, the crowd migrated towards the front of the State House, where the governor of Boston at the time, Thomas Hutchinson, stood on this very balcony and attempted to calm everyone down.”  


John let out a huff of air. “Can’t imagine how well _that_ turned out.”  


“Actually, better than you’d think.” She adjusted herself again and was even closer to him now, the biceps of their arms completely smooshed together. Whether her actions were accidental or on purpose he did not know; but he did know that her subtle movements were driving him batshit crazy. “It was no secret that Hutchinson was a huge supporter of British law, but even he couldn’t deny the brutality that occurred that night.” She let out a chuckle. “Plus, I’m almost certain that if he had stood here and declared outright that the British soldiers acted justly, we’d be standing in the governor’s place of death.”  


“What do you even say to a crowd after that?” John could almost imagine the position Hutchinson must have been in, standing above an angry mob of citizens willing to kill to avenge the death of their neighbors. He could see both sides of the coin: felt for both the outraged populace and the Massachusetts leader. “What could you possibly say to a town after they watched their own be slaughtered right in front of them?”  


“Not a lot, honestly.” Annabelle shrugged. “His speech was short. But his words held deep purpose. He basically assured Boston that if they returned to their homes and ceased the violence, there would be a fair trial held against the soldiers.” She finished her sentence and Hancock could practically see the lightbulb flicker on above her head, a toothy grin splitting her freckled cheeks. She straightened up and cleared her throat loudly, snatching Hancock’s hat from the top of his head before he could react and fitting it on the crown of her blonde skull. He cocked an eyebrow, or lack thereof, and chuckled in amusement. He tried to ignore the warmth spreading through his form at the sight of her in his hat. He gripped the railing with his free hand in a half-assed attempt to anchor himself in one place.  


_“‘Let the law have it’s course,’”_ She boomed, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to mimic a male tone. A large wave of laughter ripped through John’s body as he doubled over the railing, the sight both adorable and embarrassingly hilarious. A few Goodneighbor citizens stopped to take in the spectacle, her little show eliciting a chuckle from a few drifters passing by. _“‘I will live and die by the law!’”_ She brought her fist down onto the decaying wood firmly, the crumbling structure of the balcony trembling at her strike. The gathering crowd below cheered and clapped, hollering their praises at the display.  


Annabelle blushed fiercely and shoved John’s hat back into his chest. “Oh my _god,_ I didn’t realize people were watching-“ she made a hasty move to retreat into the State House but was pulled back by John, her body snapping like an accordion into his stature.  


“Oh, no you don’t, Ms. Governor,” he wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around to face the citizens below, who were still observing the little show with genuine amusement. Her giggles and shrieks were music to his ears. “A good leader never ends a speech without the proper final words.”  


“But there _are_ no final words!” She laughed. “That’s almost _literally_ all he says in his address to the town!”  


“Well, make it up,” John released her and placed his hat back on her head, giving her an appreciative once over from behind before nudging her forward towards the rail. “C’mon, they’re dyin’ down there.”  


At this point almost half the citizens of Goodneighbor had gathered below, all itching for another scene in her small production. The populace erupted in delight the moment she came into view, her face a shade of deep rose as she hid slightly under the brim of John’s hat. From behind, he memorized the curve of her slender frame and committed it to memory, something he indulged in when they were traveling together. Though it was often a rare occurrence to be trailing behind her while they were wandering the Wastes. She spent most of the time behind his arm, burying her face into his coat until the threat passed under the barrel of John’s shotgun. And he wouldn't have it any other way.  


Annabelle offered a shaky chuckle to the crowd, shaking her head. “Y’all are gonna be the death of me, I swear.”  


“Let’s hear it, Annie!” Daisy shouted up at her with a grin. “I know you’ve got somethin’ brewin’ in that big ole’ noggin’ of yours.”  


Annabelle thought a moment, racking her brain for any meaningful and useful quotes she had found in her years of research. Maybe she could use the widely popular conclusion of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. Or, she could bellow the final moments of George Washington’s Farewell Address. At least a thousand or more phrases ran through her mind, but one in particular stood out the most. Her lips quirked slightly as she pushed John Hancock’s trademark hat a little higher on her head, revealing her full profile to the settlement.  


_“‘We must be unanimous;’”_ the words fell from her lips as if the events of July 4, 1776 were repeating themselves once more; as if John Hancock himself was speaking to his fellow Sons of Liberty one final time. _“‘there must be no pulling different ways.’”_  


The crowd fell silent as did the mayor himself, watching the woman before him with a swell of pride and respect. The roll of her shoulders, the swagger in her stance, the firmness in her voice and the absolute attention of the people… The deafening thump of his heart within his chest rocked his inner core, the tremble in his hands and the shake of his knees forcing him to lean against the rotting doorway for support. If there had been any doubt he was hopelessly in love with the vault dweller before this moment, they were buried as deep as the cryo chamber from which she came. He was practically drowning in his feelings for this woman.  


_“‘We must hang together!’”_ her hand grabbed for the hat and held it above her head in triumph, the crowd erupting into an overwhelming sea of cheers. John could hardly make out the beautiful sound of her laughter over their praise, the noise lingering even after the crowd began to disperse in various directions. She gave a cheerful wave and plunked the hat back onto her head, still giggling as she turned to face John and tease him about her newly converted fans.  


“Hey John, think you’ve got competition for-“ He grabbed her before she could finish, swiftly turning and pushing her into the wood of the State House, capturing her lips in a deep and passionate kiss that would have brought her to her knees if it hadn’t been for John’s body anchoring her. His fingers tangled in her wavy locks while his other gripped the curve of her hip, a small whimper leaving her throat and eliciting a delicious growl from his own. He pushed her farther into the door, his tongue sliding into her mouth fiercely as he practically swallowed her whole with his body. He had caught her completely off-gaurd but it was more than a pleasant surprise, Annabelle reciprocating the kiss with equal passion and urgency while circling her arms over the slope of his shoulders. The kiss seemed to last a lifetime before John pulled away, gazing into her crystal blue eyes with an intensity and heat she had never seen in his dark pupils before.  


“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he breathed against her skin, sending a fierce chill down the base of her spine. “I’ve imagined this scenario a million times and not _one_ has ever come close to how fuckin’ amazing you actually feel in my hands.”  


Annabelle could only nod, her eyes wild and her body actually forgetting how to breath. His thumb tracing circles into the pulse point of her neck was only making it worse. Her eyes slid closed as he traced the curve of her hips with his fingers, hardly touching the fabric of her clothes yet she could feel the electricity as he dragged his digits over her body. It was agonizing. She suppressed a low moan threatening to escape her kiss-swollen lips. She wanted to say something, anything to help convey the emotions she had felt for him since the first time she saw him; how she practically melted in her tattered combat boots every single time he headed her direction; how she couldn't possibly imagine a life without him at her side. Still breathless and drowning in the afterglow of their kiss, she finally choked out a short sentence that she thought would sum up her feelings quite nicely.  


“I love you.”  


It was barely a whisper, almost inaudible, but John caught it easily. His eyes widened and his hand at her hip found the wood of the wall behind her for support. “What did you just say?”  


Annabelle swallowed thickly, the nerves from her confession budding up inside and threatening to explode. Did he not feel the same way? Had she moved too fast? She couldn’t take it back now. She spoke again, a little louder this time. “I love you.”  


John just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Annabelle braced herself for the worst, prepared for the heartache that came with laying her feelings out on the table. He hadn’t moved his hand from her neck, his fingers stiff against the underside of her ear and near the curve of her jaw. She tensed beneath him and flinched as if she were dodging a raider’s bullet.  


“You _love_ me?” His tone was thick with disbelief, laced with a bit of confusion and shock. The intensity behind his stare was borderline overwhelming. “But how-how can you?”  


Nothing could describe the heartbreak she felt as he began to untangle himself from her form, the cold Commonwealth air hitting her like a wall of pre-war bricks. He’d almost removed himself completely from her reach until she yanked him back towards her by the tattered lapels of his jacket with firm fingers. “Are you seriously asking that?” She titled the brim of her hat back to get a better look at his features, his eyes cast into the wood of the building and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. There was no mistaking the shame in the creases of his cheeks. “Hey, look at me.” She was less than a head shorter than him, not quite having to stand on her tip-toes to grasp his chin and force his gaze back on her. She sighed quietly and gripped his jacket tighter. “How could I not love you?”  


“Cause I’m a fuckin’ ghoul, Annabelle.” He nearly spat, making her cringe from beneath him. He let out a deep breath and calmed his tone slightly. “A woman like you shouldn’t be with a mutated freak. You need a handsome set of smooth skin hands that’ll raise your kids and grow old with you.” He shook his head dejectedly. “You ain’t gettin’ that if you settle with me.”  


“Listen to me,” her voice was firm, her dirty blond eyebrows furrowed as if she were trying so hard to be mad. John wasn’t even sure if she was capable of feeling anger. “I don’t want any of that, John. I want _you._ I want the man that can sit and listen to me ramble about dead white guys for hours without tellin’ me to shut up once. I want the man that makes me laugh and smile and protects me when danger is nearby. I want the man with a bigger heart than the entire Commonwealth combined.” Her fingertips danced across his cheekbone, that heart-melting smile tugging at her lips. “I want the only man that understands me, that makes me _feel_ something. I want the man that gives me the will to live.” Her hand roamed to the center of his chest, her palm soaking up the gentle thud of his heart beat. “I want the man I love, John. And that’s you.”  


The edge of his thin lips tugged upward slightly before he caressed her face and crashed into her mouth with his own, the motion of his lips slower than their first kiss yet no less passionate. His tricorn hat was knocked from her head during the encounter, his torso blissfully unyielding against her small and frail figure. He pulled back slightly and peppered light kisses against her jaw and cheekbone, his left arm wrapping around her waist while his right hand tangled in her hair at the back of her head, pulling her flush against him. “I love you, Anne,” he murmured over and over between kisses, sending Annabelle’s heart into overdrive as her own limbs circled his frame intimately. “I love you so fuckin’ much, ever since the day I met you I was hooked-”  


Annabelle grinned into his coat at his words, a pleasant sigh escaping her lips. A few breathtaking minutes passed before she was the one who leaned away, pressing her chin lightly against his chest as she peered up at him from under her eyelashes. “So, you really think you can handle this pile of history-buff trash for one lifetime?” She teased, slipping her palm under the flaps of his coat and tangling her fingers into the thin fabric of his shirt. His eyes lit up as he chuckled from deep within his chest.  


“I think I can handle whatever you throw at me, governor.” He leaned down to peck her on the lips one more time, reveling in the knowledge that she was _his_ girl; this pre-war beauty shared such a deep love for him that she was willing to look past his mutation and flaws and love him for _him,_ no matter what the bigot pricks of the Commonwealth had to say about it. He couldn’t be luckier. He had finally found his piece of heaven. “Now come on, love, I think this calls for our first round of drinks as a long-term duo.”  


He pulled a giggling Annabelle towards the door, snatching his hat from the floorboards of the balcony and adjusting it back onto the crown of her head. He lead her down the stairs and into a new reality they would build together.

**Author's Note:**

> A full fic on this topic is in the works. Feedback is appreciated!!


End file.
